In 2005, I resolve to be more like Grandma

I have only one New Year's resolution: Be more like Grandma.

Up on the farm in Willard, Grandma arose before dawn every day to milk her cows. It didn't matter if it was Sunday or Christmas or New Year's Day. It didn't matter if she had a cold, or arthritis, or even the flu. It didn't matter if the sun was shining or a blizzard was raging. Every morning and every evening she made her way to the barn, 500 yards away.

In the barnyard, 10 or 12 cows waited. As Grandma approached, the cows lined up to get inside. They seemed to recognize her, and an observer would not be too far wrong in thinking that if the cows were able, they might say: "Good morning. It's good to see you."

Perhaps one or two younger cows balked a bit, but a harsh word or her willow switch soon brought them into line. Each cow had a name.

Grandma talked to them as if they were children. Inside, each found her own stanchion, put her head between the iron bars and waited patiently for Grandma to clamp it shut. At the right side of each cow, in turn, Grandma squatted on that short stool of hers, clamped the stainless steel milk pail between her legs, and began squeezing. The sssppptt, sssppptt, sssppptt of milk rhythmically hitting the sides of the pail is like no other sound. And if the cat sat patiently a few yards away, it might receive a squirt or two of warm milk, direct from the source.

(I still have that milk pail with its partially closed top. It houses a healthy philodendron. I think Grandma would approve.)

For the most part, the cows stood quietly, chewing on hay and waiting their turns. When one grew impatient or brushed Grandma's head with its tail, Grandma scolded it as if it were an errant child. But the sssppptt, sssppptt, sssppptt continued without missing a beat.

After each cow, she poured milk from her pail into closed 10- gallon milk cans. The milk cans were later wheeled to the road for the dairy to pick up. Milk was a year-round source of Grandma's meager income.

I thought about Grandma during the busy holiday season. Time flies so fast these days, and my slow-motion body has trouble keeping up.

I sometimes think I'm too busy. I sometimes think the obligations of the world are pressing on me too much. I sometimes think my day has too many "have to's" and not enough "want to's." Then I remember Grandma. She milked those cows until she was almost 90. (She lived to be 96.)

How could she do it? For one thing, Grandma did not milk the cows because she "had to." She milked the cows because they needed to be milked. There's a difference. To her, those animals were not just cows; they were Bossy, and Sally, and Betsy, and whatever names she gave them (all ending with a diminutive and affectionate "y.") She wanted them to be as content as they could be, even if it required sacrifices on her part.

To Grandma, milking the cows was not an imposition; it was an opportunity. Milking was not a job; it was a service.

In life, attitude is everything. Eleanor Roosevelt said: "No one can make me feel inferior without my permission."

And no one can make me feel my daily activities are obligations unless I give them permission. I control my own attitudes. No one else has a say about how I feel unless I foolishly give him or her permission to do so.

That's why my resolution for the coming year is to be more like Grandma. When that terribly negative phrase "have to" invades my thoughts, I'll find ways to transform it into "want to." Instead of thinking of daily activities as impositions, I'll think of them as opportunities. Because there isn't a thing we do -- not a single thing -- which does not have a component of service to others.

When you feel put upon, think about Grandma and her cows. If she could let a few cows give her life purpose, each of us can surely find purpose in our own surroundings.

G. Donald Gale is president of Words, Words, Words, Inc. He was formerly editorial director at KSL. He earned a Ph.D. at the University of Utah and was awarded an honorary doctorate by Southern Utah University. E-mail: dongale@words3.com.

Copyright C 2005 Deseret News Publishing Co.
Provided by ProQuest Information and Learning Company. All rights Reserved.